


I ache sometimes, but you’re always there

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron gets punched, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, It was also written in like 45 minutes, John thought he was an intruder, Lafayette worries, M/M, This is Bad, its an accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Aaron is upset when he comes home to an empty bed
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	I ache sometimes, but you’re always there

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ad_dictionary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ad_dictionary/gifts).



“John, get your hand off my ass.”

“I’m not touching your ass!” 

“Cheri, that’s me.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes and pulls the covers tighter over his head, unable to wipe away the scowl that had crawled onto his face. He shouldn’t be upset. Work had gone late that night, and he’d been looking forwards to crawling into bed with all of his boyfriends. Upon returning home, he found their shared apartment completely empty. Void of all life except for their two cats and the variation of houseplants that’s littered the windowsills. 

Maybe he would have been less irked if they’d sent him a text. Given him a heads up that they too would be getting home late. Nothing. Radio silence on the other end, even when he’d tried reaching out to them. 

He ended up crawling into the guest bed that night, opting to sleep off his anger instead of taking it out on his lovers. But sleep simply wouldn’t come. And here he was, even more pissy now that they had finally come home. 

He listens to them shuffle around, sharing words and most likely kisses. Alexander always becomes so much lore affectionate at night. John was similar in this way. He was like a koala hugging a eucalyptus tree. He wouldn’t let go unless it was absolutely dire. 

He almost caves. He wants to go in and collapse in the middle of them, be welcomed with open arms and soothing words. 

No. He keeps himself rooted to the spot. 

Eventually the sounds of their talking settles, and silence greets him. Had they not even noticed his absence? Not even thought it pertinent that they text him back? 

He can’t sleep. Curls up and stays in bed until he realizes that he’s incredibly thirsty. 

He makes his way to the kitchen, feet slapping on the linoleum floor. He’s immediately opening one of the bottom cabinets and grabbing his pale blue water-bottle, a gift from John not too long ago.

He closes the cabinet and walks over to the fridge, squinting in the darkness at the fancy settings on the water dispenser. 

He isn’t exactly trying to be loud as he moves around, but he’s not trying to be quiet either. He fills up his water bottle and steps out of the kitchen, moving to go back to the room. A fist meets him halfway, connecting with his cheek and clipping his nose. He cries out in shock more than anything, but the pain is quick to follow. 

“What the fuck?!” He snaps. He whips around to find the culprit, eyes landing on the semi-shadowy figure of John Laurens. The man in question looks absolutely mortified upon realizing that he’d just punched Aaron, who was not an intruder, but his very pissed off boyfriend. 

“Holy shit.” His hands fly to his mouth, and then out to cup Aaron’s face. “Oh my god, holy shit. I just punched you. I thought you were an intruder.” He presses his finger too firmly against the tender skin, making Aaron hiss in pain. 

“Don’t touch me.” He bats his hands away and starts marching back to his room. Not only is he angry, but is now sporting a smarting cheek and an achey heart. 

It’s not that John had punched him that hurt. It was that they didn’t even seem to know that he was gone. He hadn’t even come to bed that night, and instead of thinking he’d gone and gotten something to drink, John immediately assumed that some intruder had broken into their house for a nice drink. 

He shuts the door and locks it. Crawls back into bed and manages to fall into an uneasy sleep. It’s never the same without the heat of four other bodies enveloping his. 

His dreams are odd. Fast cars speeding along the highway. Eyes peering at him from every direction. Aaron never feels completely there. Like he’s watching from the eyes of someone else, invading their body and seeing from their perspective. 

He’s rudely woken by two hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him. He grumbles and forces his eyes open, blinking blearily in the dim lighting. 

“He is awake! Thank god.” A heavy French accent floods his ears, identifying the person who had been so rudely manhandling him as Lafayette.

The pain floods back, and he can probably guess that his cheek is bruised. Maybe even a little swollen. 

“Why are you shaking me?” He grumbles, turning over and pulling the blankets over his shoulders again. It’s not like he’d been having a good dream. He was just upset that Lafayette’s way of waking him up was by handling him like a rag doll. 

“You did not look like you were breathing! Little Burr, the door was locked. You never lock doors. Why would you do that?” 

He can’t even think far enough back to remember why he’d done it. But he doesn’t care enough to, either. 

He gives a weak shrug of his shoulder that could barely be seen beneath the blankets that he’d accumulated. 

Lafayette falls silent by his side. Then there are hands peeling away the blankets and guiding his face to the side. Aaron sucks in a breath as the Frenchman unconsciously presses his thumb against the bruise. Almost immediately, the pressure is gone, but the bruise doesn’t stop smarting. 

“Are you upset because of what John did last night?” 

He turns his head on his own accord, craning his neck to meet Lafayette’s worried gaze. 

“You could have texted me that you would be coming home late.”

His words are far too bitter. When he drops his head again, he catches a glimpse of three figures standing nervously at the door. His heart twinges in pain, and suddenly he’s more upset than angry. 

“Is this what this is about?” 

It’s not Lafayette, but Alexander who says this. He cranes his neck to send a half-hearted glare towards the door, but it holds no real malice. He’s not angry. He can’t be angry at them. 

“You didn’t even notice I was gone.” His words come out half-aborted, falling flat in the room that’s far too empty. 

A small part of him expects to be chastised. 

**_ ‘You’re such a drama queen.’ _ **

**_ ‘The world doesn’t revolve around you.’ _ **

**_ ‘You can’t blame us.’ _ **

“Oh, Aaron.” Suddenly he’s surrounded by the warmth that he’d missed so desperately last night. “Of course we noticed. We didn’t think to check our phones, we’re so sorry.” 

That’s all he wanted. That’s all he needed. He turns and buries his face into the closest shoulder to him, which just happens to be Alexander’s. He should have gone there all along. Crawled into bed alongside them and reveled in the closeness of them all. 

He would have slept peacefully then. 

“We messed up, Aaron. You mean so much to us. We could never forget you.” 

He shakes his head and pulls away from Alexander’s shoulder, eyes admittedly teary. 

“I know.” He whispers. “Just... wish you’d let me know.” 

Hercules leans down and presses his lips to the top of his head, a gesture that simultaneously comforts him and makes him want to cry. 

“We fucked up. That was on us, will you forgive us?” Alexander reaches out and strokes his fingers over his uninjured cheek. 

“Always.” He whispers. “Always.” 

He closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into their embrace and focus on the warmth they provide him. 

He opens his eyes when he feels someone shift. 

“How’s your cheek?” John is looking at him with incredibly worried eyes, his hand hovering a few inches away from the bruise. 

Aaron takes his hand and laces their fingers together, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips. 

“I’m okay.” He whispers. “I love you.” 

“Love you.” John says, echoed by Alexander and Lafayette and Hercules. 

“Love you so much.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 45 minutes


End file.
